by Ed James
Sharon stood in the close.
"Trying to do my bit," said Cullen. "Don't want to get kicked out. Besides, I remember Caldwell saying pregnant woman aren't supposed to change cat litter."
Sharon kissed him on the lips. "I'm sure Fluffy will appreciate it."
"And you don't?"
She laughed. "I could grow to like it. How are you doing?"
Cullen shrugged. "Tired. Coping, just about. You?"
"I'm shattered," said Sharon. "I never knew pregnancy was going to be this tough."
"I'm not going to say you're glowing or anything."
Sharon led them back upstairs. "The last thing I feel is glowing. How was your night at your parents?"
"Good," said Cullen. "Went out with Richard for a few pints, which was good fun."
"How do you manage to get pissed so often?" said Sharon.
"Skill?"
"It's not funny."
"I wasn't really pissed," said Cullen. "Besides, I'm not as bad as I used to be."
"Not sure."
"I managed to find a suspect," said Cullen, evading the subject of his piss artistry. "A guy I was at school with."
Sharon shook her head as she opened the flat door. "Just don't let any shit that happened at school cloud your judgment."
"I'm not Bain," said Cullen, before going into the bathroom to wash his hands. "Crystal sent me home early. I've got to head back through to Glasgow tomorrow morning."
"Tough luck." Sharon started tugging her shoes off. "Did you put any thought into what the fuck we are going to do?"
Cullen sat alongside her and started massaging her feet. "I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I still feel like a wee boy inside my head."
"If it's any consolation, you act like one."
"Thanks," said Cullen. "I'm trying to be honest here. I just don't know how the hell I feel. I've no idea what to do. What do you think?"
"It's such a shitty time. I'm still trying to work out when it happened. I'm not sure it was Budgie's birthday."
"Does it matter?" said Cullen. "We'll just end up getting into a fight about it. It's both of our responsibility. I know you'll suffer more for it."
"Are you saying you expect me to be a housewife?"
"I meant you having an abortion," said Cullen.
"Oh." Sharon looked away. "So that's what you've decided, is it?"
"All I've decided is to talk it through with you," said Cullen. "Having a kid frightens the living shit out of me, especially in this fucking city. I'm barely capable of looking after the cat let alone a child. He's pissed in the bath again."
"It's both of our job to change his litter."
"You need to stop doing it."
She nodded. "What do you want to do tonight?"
"Let's go and get something to eat, like we agreed, then let's watch some telly and see how we feel about it all."
"Deal."
CHAPTER 70
Cullen was a man of few favourite restaurants, much preferring drinking in a pub and picking up some food from a shop or takeaway. Viva Mexico on Cockburn Street was one of those very few, the others being a couple of curry houses, a Thai on Thistle Street and a burrito place on Lothian Road that did haggis.
His burrito was stuffed with steak, beans and rice and it was hot, probably something to do with all the sauce he'd poured over it. He kept having to wash his mouth out with lager to keep the heat down.
"You should be drinking milk," said Sharon.
"Milk?"
"To kill the chilli. I think it's the lactose in it."
"I know that," said Cullen. "I can't order a pint of milk, though."
"Let your pride get in the way of a burning mouth, why don't you."
"Why do they serve beer with curry, then?" said Cullen.
Sharon shrugged. "To get drunken rugby players through the door?"
"It's not just rugby players."
She held up her hands. "Please spare me your rant."
"Fine," said Cullen.
He finished his burrito and set his cutlery down, letting the fire in his mouth abate. The endorphins were kicking in and he started to feel okay again.
Sharon daintily ate her huge bowl of chilli con carne. She looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "So?"
Cullen held her gaze for a few seconds. He felt a surge of love, his stomach doing cartwheels. He'd never admit it to anyone except Sharon, but the way he felt about her made him crazy. He simply didn't know how to act. "So? It's a good burrito. Nine out of ten."
She dropped her fork to the plate. "About the baby, Scott? The reason we're here?"
"Right. Look, I know one thing, okay? I never want to be apart from you. All that shit we went through in October, which I've apologised for so many times, I never want that to happen again. Whether we have kids or not, I want to be with you. I wouldn't have kids with anyone else."
"You mean that?"
"Honestly," said Cullen.
"So, what are we going to do?" said Sharon.
"Thinking about it is the only thing I can think of doing," said Cullen. "We've still got time. We need to talk and consider all options."
"How do we make a decision?" Sharon put her plate to the side, three-quarters empty.
Cullen was tempted to finish it off, but resisted. "Whatever feels right."
"What, though?"
Cullen smiled. "You're panicking, aren't you?"
She hit the table. "Of course I am. I've got something growing inside me that I don't know if I even fucking want. Every hour we don't make a decision is an hour closer to not being able to get out of this situation." She took a drink. "On top of that, I've got all this shit about my promotion. I don't need this now."
He reached across and took her hand, stroking it. "Please don't push yourself too hard. If we decide to keep it, I don't want it fucked up because you're stressing yourself out about this. Even if we get rid of it, I don't want you stressed like you have been."
Sharon scowled. "Do you want to carry it?"
Cullen pulled his hand back. "I'm just saying, that's all."
"If I get a DI post then we could get a house outside the city," said Sharon. "There's a nice development going up in Garleton."
"I've told you I'd rather not live there," said Cullen. "Too many bad memories."
"It'd be near my sister."
"You're really selling it to me." Cullen took another drink.
She paused for a few seconds. "Suppose I get an abortion."
"How would your parents react to that?" said Cullen.
"Because they're Catholics?"
Cullen shrugged. "Aye."
"They're not hard line. Mum said they'd be fine with it. They'd much rather I was happy."
"That's a relief." Cullen played with his ear. "Wouldn't want you to have to choose one way or another."
"I would never have to, you idiot," said Sharon. "I'd always choose you over them. Look, we should think about it but we need to make a decision at the weekend. This isn't the sort of thing I want hanging over our heads. Let's go out for dinner on Saturday - my choice - and then make the decision. If we choose to get rid of it, you're coming with me to the clinic and holding my hand."
Cullen felt relief that progress was being made. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
CHAPTER 71
They got back to the flat in time for the second half of the football, Sharon snuggling up to Cullen and falling asleep by the time the second Arsenal goal went in. She stumbled to bed not long after the Bayern Munich equaliser, leaving Cullen to watch the London side limp out of the Champions League once again. The pundits in the TV studio were stuck in a heated debate about a meaningless penalty so Cullen switched it off.
He picked up The List from the table by the sofa, drawn in by the cover - two members of Expect Delays respectively looking moody and jokey. That bloody article was the start of this whole case, he thought - if those Gap kids hadn't read it, they'd never have been inspired to head down into the catacombs and find Strang's body.
Who knew how long it could have sat there, waiting to be discovered?
He started reading the interview, five pages focusing on the local boys done good and their U2 support slot at Hampden. He quickly skimmed to the relevant section, the reporter having mostly got responses from Neeraj Patel about how it felt to tour with U2, a band Cullen didn't care for much.
List: You're an Edinburgh band originally. Tell us a story about Glasgow or Edinburgh that nobody has heard before.
NP: I've got one. We used to have a practice room in Niddry Street, just between the Cowgate and the High Street.
MR: Oh, not this one. Please, don't print this!
NP: This is a good story, man.
MR: I'll let your readers be the judge of that...
NP: Ignore him. It's a good story. Anyway, we used to rehearse in there. To be honest, we wrote most of our first two albums in this room. We moved to Glasgow when we signed to Indigo and we've got a huge rehearsal space through there now. At the time, though, having our own room was great and it made us feel like a real band.
MR: We always were a real band, Neej.
NP: Anyway, this particular tale would be about the time we wrote 'Where has he gone?'. We were into dares and betting and Mike here was bet he couldn't go down to the hidden street.
MR: You'd better explain what the hidden street is.
List: The Hidden Street was the title to your second album, right?
NP: Aye, but this is where we got it from. Where we used to rehearse in Niddry Street, there was a staircase that led down to this door. Through the door was an old close, like Mary King's Close, but it went right under the Old Town. You could walk for miles, man.
MR: The streets were covered over in the nineteenth century when they rebuilt the place.
NP: Right, aye. Anyway, Mikey was dared to go down the street.
MR: (Laughs) And I did.
NP: He totally shat it, though. Came screaming out of there like there was something after him.
MR: That was just to frighten you, you tube!
List: How far did you go?
MR: I don't want to encourage anyone to go down there. It was stupid and dangerous. Kids, if you're reading this, don't go down there.
NP: I don't think that'll stop them.
MR: (Laughs) Kids, go down there, it's ace.
List: The second edition of The Hidden Street featured your hit single 'Where Has He Gone?' which many people have attributed to saving your career. It's very evocative and mysterious with the meaning being somewhat opaque. What was it about?
NP: He just makes up any old nonsense, you know? It's not about anything.
MR: Shut up! I don't do that.
NP: Alright, what's it about, then?
MR: It's about that kid at school, the one who's destined for greatness when you're fifteen, who just never makes it. I think I got it from this guy I was at school with. He was going to be an artist and everyone knew it. He was the best in school, best in the whole district. Years later, I bumped into him one day and he had just been let out of prison. He'd got into drugs. It's about that sort of thing, the boy who had so much promise, what happened to him?
NP: I've honestly never heard that story before. Wow.
The piece started to indulge the band even more, so Cullen tossed the magazine aside. It was an interesting story and he could see why Public Right of Way would want to copy them.
He had a thought - could Roberts be lying and the song was actually about Strang? He fiddled on his phone. The song came out three months before Strang's death.
His mind sparked to Audrey Patterson. She blamed Cullen for ruining her life. He could barely remember the girl, let alone bullying her and making her into the mess he'd seen in Dalhousie. Gradually, he managed to piece together an image of her, younger and thinner. He honestly didn't think he'd bullied her, but it was all about perspective - if she thought she was being bullied, maybe she was.
If anything, he might have been slightly attracted to her. The cockiness he grew into hadn't yet blossomed at school. He'd been overweight and shy, a year or so before he'd started running and getting into shape, transforming his growing body into a weapon to use against impressionable girls.
There must have been something in it - the people he sat with were notorious for bullying. He could only think some of his banter, as he saw it, was taken as serious insult.
He got up, stretched and went to bed.
Sharon turned over. "Remember we've got that gig tomorrow night."
"I'll see if I can get away," said Cullen.
He wasn't relishing the prospect of standing in a football stadium with a pregnant girlfriend, watching Expect Delays and U2, two bands he hated.
Wednesday
3rd April 2013
CHAPTER 72
Cullen drove through the outskirts of Glasgow, inching ahead of the tidal wave of traffic, waves of high-rise buildings on either side.
He stopped at a garage with an M&S and got a coffee. He needed to kick into gear after a broken night of sleep, constantly waking up and thinking about the baby.
Mucus dripped from his nose as he paid. He reached for another hankie on his way back to the car and blew. He'd definitely caught Sharon's cold.
He drove to Govan and blagged the last free space. He walked across the car park in the twilight, before showing his warrant card to the security guard.
"Sorry, son, you'll need to be signed in."
Cullen wasn't in the mood for admin or process. "This is a Police Scotland warrant card."
"I don't care, son. You're through here, you're signed in by one of the locals."
Cullen rolled his eyes at him, before phoning McCrea.
"Sorry, I'm too busy."
"I've driven all this way," said Cullen.
"Aye, all right."
Eventually, McCrea appeared through the security barrier and signed Cullen in, making sure he was cleared for the rest of the week.
"Pleased to see you," said McCrea, looking anything but. "How has it been through there?"
"Getting nowhere then getting somewhere, then getting shoved back here."
"The gaffer will love to see you," said McCrea.
"Really?"
McCrea led them into the Incident Room, the idling Glasgow South MIT waiting for their morning battering from the DI.
Bain stood up at the front of the room and loudly cleared his throat. "Morning. First thing is the Hughes murder. As it stands, we've got very few suspects. Only lead we've got is his ex in Edinburgh."
He rubbed his top lip. "Someone in Edinburgh MIT has grassed to their Detective Superintendent. Apparently, we were naughty boys and girls when we spoke to Marta Hunter without their say-so, so we need to make sure we follow due process or we'll have a meeting in Tulliallan with the big knobs."
He looked around the room, clearly not believing his own words and giving Cullen absolutely no confidence his subordinates would take it on board.
"Anyway, we're no further forward with the case. There are no forensics that haven't already been pre-cleared as belonging to the deceased or to an officer on the case. As it stands, everyone we've interviewed is a likely suspect."
He smiled. "We've been tying a few things together with the drugs angle and we got a lead late last night which looks promising. Turns out he was definitely doing a bit of dealing. This ties in with him having two girlfriends who were known addicts, one in Pollockshaws and one in Edinburgh. We need to lock this down."
He gestured at Cullen, looking him up and down.
"We've got a special guest star here today to help out with the Edinburgh angle." He grinned. "That, or he's babysitting us. As some of you will know, DC Cullen used to work for me. You all have actions, nothing new. Dismissed."
Cullen approached Bain. "Thanks for the intro."
Bain smiled, looking calm and relaxed. "Just know you're being watched here, Sundance."
Cullen's breath quickened as he realised he was already deep in one
of Bain's games. "We don't have a drug angle in our case."
"As if they're the same case, Sundance," said Bain.
"You seem to think they are."
"If they are, I'm taking over," said Bain. "I'm like the mountains, Sundance, I've got a fuck of a long memory. That bitch took over my case six months ago, no danger it's happening again. I'll show her what's what. She's getting a taste of her own fuckin' medicine."
Cullen desperately wanted to avoid being a bit part in a Bain-Cargill standoff. "What do you want me to do?"
"Speak to McCrea, Constable," said Bain, relishing the use of Cullen's revised title. "I'm sure he'll find something for you. Just keep out of my fuckin' hair."
CHAPTER 73
Cullen went through the case file again, spending an hour to little or no benefit. He'd been brushed off by McCrea, who muttered about giving him something to do before disappearing.
Cullen looked around the bustling Incident Room and let his shoulders sag. Officers milled around, no doubt with the same level of dedication he'd shown while working for Bain, lest they get their arses handed to them.
He didn't know where the nearest decent coffee shop was but there was nothing doing in the station. He found a drum of supermarket own-brand instant coffee and scooped in a few heaped teaspoons along with some hardened coffee whitener. His stomach was already starting to rumble.
He felt he was being taken for an idiot, having busted a gut to get there for the seven am briefing.
Cullen knew more than most how far the game between Cargill and Bain stretched back. Bain received his comeuppance in Lothian & Borders at the hands of Cargill. Now they were in Police Scotland, there were new rules. Bain was better connected in the new regime, his eleven years in Strathclyde giving him a clear advantage over Cargill's time in Lothian & Borders, Central and Grampian. The upper echelons in the new force were heavily weighted towards the west coast, which worked in Bain's favour.
He sat back down again and looked at his notes, figuring his morning was a complete waste of time. All they'd done in the last two days was perform a classic Bain sting, expending a lot of effort on tightening up notebooks and making sure everything was nailed down.
